


Closing Time

by revolutionator



Category: BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolutionator/pseuds/revolutionator
Summary: You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.





	Closing Time

**Author's Note:**

> For Andrea. (May be continued if I have time)

~~~~

Two young women getting ready in a room beset with young women's clutter, one sitting on an unmade bed styling her bangs, the other checking the collar on her jacket in the room's only mirror. The latter turned to face the bed as soon as she was satisfied, only to find a new objective right away.

'Here, your hair's all messed up at the back. Let me get it.'

All the warning Himari ever got before Tomoe descended on her, comb flicked out from – where? The secret compartment in her wrist? Hammerspace? She wasn't holding a comb before – somewhere, and suddenly she was getting groomed and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She groaned and flopped forward into the bedsheets. Tomoe continued to comb as though nothing was wrong.

'I can brush my own hair,' Himari said mutinously. 'I'm an adult.'

'I know that,' Tomoe said. 'You always help with mine.'

That chastened her some. She even got up on her knees so that Tomoe could run the brush through more easily. She could see the clutter from the bedroom out of the corners of her periphal vision, bottles of hair product and nail varnish and scrunchies and hats and earrings and chokers and different tiny glittering purses. When had they accrued so much _stuff_? No, she corrected herself guiltily, most of that stuff was her own. Tomoe's things were kept neatly in a drawer. She would have to clean up when they got back... Though she still had a report to finish.... How did anyone have time to fit in everything at college and keep a tidy room?

'There,' Tomoe said. Himari turned to look at her, just about caught the gentle smile before she covered it with her hand. 'You look good enough to play the Budoukan.'

Compliments like that one came a lot more lately, and maybe Himari was imagining it, but Tomoe always sounded a little wistful when she said them - she chalked that up to a general melancholy of being the only two left as active Afterglow members. Ran had to prepare for work with her dad's school ('but I'll be back,' she said in that frightening Ran way); Moca was doing a year abroad in Korea, Tsugu's university was in Kyoto and she could only visit for Obon and New Year's.

Obon already seemed so long ago.

Of course, Moca couldn't pop back so easily, and even though Ran was so close her schedule was so restrictive that she seemed to cancel more meetings than she could attend. Himari worried about her, but then, she worried about all of them. Sometimes she even worried about their worries, in a meta sort of ways – did they all react to the word 'Budoukan' like she did? Or was she a special case just because she had Tomoe around to bring it up?

Tomoe herself must have picked up on her sudden spike of emotion because suddenly she was putting her arms around her.

'I'm sorry, Hiichan, I didn't mean-'

'Don't fuss me,' Himari said, hating how grumpy it came out, 'I'm fine.'

'You aren't,' Tomoe said instantly, 'you miss them. I do too.'

Himari took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax. The bottles and bangles and buttons and bags all swam in her vision into a glimmering, multicolored blur that was too much to make sense of. She buried her face in Tomoe's front instead.

'It's stupid,' she mumbled. Did she sound like she was crying? She hoped not. She was an adult now. Twenty years old and definitely not a crybaby, thank you. 'I always knew we'd have to split for a bit after high school, but now... Now I wonder if we'll ever make it back together again.'

In a hushed voice, she added: 'Moca was talking about moving to Seoul on Facebook. Like, permanently.'

Tomoe laughed, just enough for her body to shake with the force of it. Himari clung harder, unsure whether to take it as a reassurance or not, but unwilling to back down. She pushed her face harder against Tomoe's chest. 'A-Anyway! Of course I miss them. But when you say stuff like that, about the Budoukan...'

Tomoe wasn't laughing anymore. She was fussing the nape of Himari's neck instead, stroking the hair flat, like you might with a little kid.

'...I get scared,' she finished. And she was scared. 'I get scared that Afterglow won't make it to the goal Tsugu set for us, and maybe... maybe it doesn't even matter that we won't...'

She felt her own face crumple without her permission and detested herself for it. Twenty or not, she was still silly old Himari with her babyface and plump cheeks and propensity to burst into tears. Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Maybe she hadn't changed enough in high school. Anyway, it had been set in stone since forever ago! Why was she getting so worked up about it tonight – and even tonight, why _now_? She and Tomoe hadn't even gotten to the bar yet. At least if she'd had a couple of cassis sodas it would make sense to cry.

Not that she was crying now, just on the verge. When she looked up into Tomoe's face her vision was only a little blurred at the edges. Tomoe, in turn, was smiling – was stoic, like she always was. Her eyes were shining a little. Sometimes, Himari wished so badly that she was a boy. Although if Tomoe was a boy, she'd probably want to date someone pretty and skinny like Ran, or maybe someone industrious and classic like Tsugumi?

'Of course it matters,' Tomoe was saying, breaking through Himari's internal babble. 'We got to stay together all through highschool because of Afterglow. It was hard then, it's hard now, but we'll get back together. And if we don't make the Budoukan it'll still matter, because we got to stay together and stay in touch all that time.'

Her hand found Himari's and gave it the tiniest little squeeze. Her palm was so warm and dry in contrast with Himari's own slippy, sweaty fingers. Weren't drummers supposed to have coarse hands? Wait, who cared about that. Himari took a deep breath and pulled herself back together, so hard that it really felt like she was twanging back into herself, like elastic. She pushed herself away from Tomoe with a little grunt, and for half a second she could have sworn that Tomoe's hands followed, as though to bring her back.

'Do YOU want to move to Seoul like Moca does?' she asked. In her head it sounded very striking and accusatory, but Tomoe just laughed at her.

'Maybe! They've got really good shaved ice. Anyway, come on, if we don't get out the door soon we'll miss happy hour.'

She gave Himari a little wink and went to check her makeup. Himari stayed on the bed for a moment before gathering her essentials, rummaging through the little purses on the vanity to find the one that best fit her outfit (did black and silver go better with red, or just the silver, or the black and red?). Tomoe was waiting for her in the hall by the shoe-stand, where she was buckling the last buckle on her boots.

'Tomoe,' she said. She wasn't expecting to say anything at all, but the sight of Tomoe curled over herself, fussing at her shoes like she had fussed over Himari's hair earlier, with the hall-light glowing a bright pink halo on her dyed hair... It brought a curious lump to her throat, and it was because of the lump she continued. 'Tomoe, I'm really glad you're here with me.'

Tomoe looked surprised, then pained, then pleased. It was a very fast flicker of emotions and someone other than Himari could have easily missed them.

'Hey,' she said. 'I am too. We have fun here, don't we, kid?'

'Yeah,' Himari said, eager to agree with her, still processing that strange flicker of emotions on Tomoe's face and the lump in her throat that hadn't gone away. 'We sure do. I've got the key, so let me lock up.'

'Yes ma'am.'

She was grateful for the ten seconds alone she could take to breathe deep, quell the weird blush and the strange throat-lump, and turn the lights out. By the time she'd turned the key in the lock and run to meet Tomoe by the elevator, it was like she'd left all the messiness of her emotions inside, somewhere in the tangle of unwashed sweaters and half-empty lotion containers.


End file.
